Marksman Training Oblivion Novels & Stories

I was the Beta of Timber, and though I could never fight a battle for Mylo, I had to be capable of defending against any other Alpha. Worst-case scenario training became a regular thing here after Octavia was abducted. Specialized trackers, tactical and field medic training, as well as information gathering which boiled down to torture methods. Our elite guards were highly trained in their specialized field and days like today were used to assess our current guards, see who has potential and in what area for when we move up the next round of guards.

I've been betrothed to one man, played a game of chess with another who was playing an equally tantalizing game and am now engaged to the man id secretly wanted from the very first time I say his stunning green eyes and crazy bright blue hair. If this is what my life has now become, then I'm going to make sure that there's never a dull moment. I want new training regiments implicated to a daily mandatory requirement. Snipper training for all top marksmen within the origination both here in Italy and back home in the states. I will have everyone re-evaluated by Samantha, YS ... who I'm going to ask what's his real name od another name because I hate calling him that.. and Damien who has prove

After all, this was his first time meeting someone as slow and oblivious as me. With that thought in mind, he put down the menu and said, "Now, then." I looked around. The men playing the men-in-black bodyguards from the dark room were not there. Now, only Theodore and I were in the private room. Which meant he wanted me to roleplay with him. There was no script either, so he must want me to improvise. Thinking of how Nora had said this movie was an action movie, I pulled the switchblade out of my pants pocket and pointed the tip at Theodore.

Two heavy, mounted fifty-caliber machine guns pointed down the eastern trail, unmanned for now as the crew boiled rations over small, smokeless stoves. I lay flat on the damp moss beside Ronan, my sidearm drawn, LUS projecting a brilliant golden HUD across my field of vision. [TACTICAL MATRIX: ACTIVE.] [HOSTILE TARGETS: 20/20 LOCATED.] [TARGET OVERWATCH: DUTCH / TERRA READY.] [DEMOLITION VECTOR: TRISTAN READY.] "Tristan," I whispered into my collar mic, my voice barely carrying over the rushing water below. "Execute." BOOM-CRACK!

I had always been obedient. Whatever people told me to do, I did without question. When my wealthy biological parents finally brought me home, my adopted sister leaned close and whispered arrogantly, "I'm the one and only Saunders daughter. If you know what's good for you, leave on your own!" I obediently nodded. Then I turned around and ran straight into the traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. They scrambled out of the car and dragged me back, their faces already pale with terror. My brother glared at me and warned in a low voice, "If you keep acting like this, I'll send you back to that hellhole." That night, I obediently locked myself inside a dog crate. When he fo

He came inside me with his mouth against the back of my neck and his hand splayed over my stomach, holding me through every pulse. I slept like the dead afterward. The third day felt shorter. Morning training focused on exits and blind spots and how to fall without breaking bones if the shot came anyway. Kazimir’s eyes stayed cold and focused, but his hands on me during the drills were careful in a way that made my chest ache. He corrected my stance with a palm at my waist. He adjusted my grip on the practice knife with fingers that lingered a fraction too long. The double life he carried sat behind every movement—the man who had once planned to kill me now teaching me how to stay alive long

These beasts roared in pain almost at the same time. They were enveloped by an invisible pressure and could not move at all. They could only scream in pain. One of the most important training tasks of those soldiers was practicing their marksmanship, and most of the time, they could hit their targets. Now, those soldiers started venting their grievances by shooting those beasts violently.

I hear Akim growl as his fires, and I already know he's holding his two Glock as he fires the assailants with bullets I trust my Byki. I trust their skills in marksmanship because we train every fucking day in Russia. I train boys willing to fight for me and for themselves . I’ve them in battalion, and we always train. Myself included. I hear distant yells from the entrance of the club as my men’s guns butchers the assailants.

He spun, his rifle spitting fire toward the console where Elias was pinned. The pain was a wall. Every time I tried to move, the disruptor sent a fresh wave of agony through my spine. I closed my eyes and forced the 3-2-1 ritual to ground me. Three. The smell of gunsmoke and Thorne’s chemicals. Two. The weight of the obsidian in my palm. One. The sight of Elias’s boot stepping from behind the console. I didn't try to ignite the threads. I forced my muscles to move the old way—the heavy, grinding way of the training pits. I rolled, ignoring the scream of my nerves.

"Again. This time—attack to kill. Not to defend. Kill." We trained eight hours daily. Hand-to-hand combat. Weapons. Strategy. Psychological warfare. Everything Marcus had known. Everything Vera had perfected. Hope watched sometimes. From behind reinforced glass. Safe. Protected. Learning. "Should she see this?" I asked Vera after particularly brutal session. Blood on my face. Damien's arm dislocated. "She should see everything. Understand everything. Know what we are. What she might become." Vera reset Damien's shoulder. He screamed. She did not flinch. "Innocence is luxury. Ashfords cannot afford luxury."